by KT Strange
“Is there anything we can show you?” an assistant comes behind the jewelry display, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping on the countertop. I feel grubby and shabby across from her. She's the kind of woman that Everett should be taking out to dinner.
Heh, he might even like her. She's got glossy blonde hair that falls all the way to her waist, and she's wearing a french-style striped shirt with slender sleeves that end right above her elbows. It's classy and boat-necked and matches her black jeans that I swear cost at least $500 from how they fit. She looks effortless, like she emerged from bed looking polished and poised. I feel like I’m still wearing my coffee shop apron with bags under my eyes.
“I think that looks nice,” he says as he points to one necklace and glances over me. It sparkles as it sways, aquamarine stone glistening under the shop lights. “What do you think, sweetheart?”
I glare at him.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” I remind him and the shopkeeper laughs under her breath nervously.
He shakes his head and grins at her.
“I’m trying to convince her to go out with me. But you know, girls these days they like to play hard to get.” He shrugs, the picture of a heartbroken prince.
She is all googly eyes at him.
“Oh, of course,” she says agreeing stupidly. That’s not fair, she’s probably not stupid.
“Don’t encourage him,” I growl and give her half-smile when she glances at me with surprise on her face. Kai laughs, clapping his hand on his chest before his expression turns serious.
“The necklace,” he says, “we’ll get it.”
He hasn’t even asked how much it costs. I mean, I’m not exactly surprised but still. I hold back and uncomfortable grumble.
“I’m gonna go try on those dresses,” I say and walk towards the back of the shop.
He waves me off, leaning forward to talk to the counter girl as she starts packing up the necklace. Maybe I can convince him to give it to her instead of me.
I don’t want to feel like I owe him anything.
“He's so brave,” sighs one girl quietly, as I look through the racks. All these clothes are so beautiful. I finger the delicate sequins, on a T shirt, a silver skull with roses for eyes picked out in beads.
Out of curiosity and lift up the tag and see that it’s- Oh God, definitely not. I drop it immediately and back away. There’s more store attendants at the back, clustered behind a rack of winter coats.
They don't seem to realize that I'm here and they're talking in hushed voices.
“Did you read that article about him on Pitchfork?” The first girl asks,
“Yeah all about the overdose inspired him to write an album. And that's how he got signed, because it was so emotional.”
“So real,” says the first, with a gusty sigh.
I freeze, waiting to hear more.
Kai overdosed? I don’t remember hearing about that, but it’s not like I’ve paid much or any attention the glitterati and what they’re up to.
Or I didn’t before.
But he survived. I glance down the store at where Kai is talking, the picture of health, straining the fabric of his shirt with well-defined muscles. He doesn’t look like he’d had an addiction problem.
I guess you really can’t judge.
“I can’t believe his best friend was the one that got his brother hooked on it,” the first continues. My heart skips a beat. I try to discretely stare at the two of them between two piles of hats. “That’s why he wrote that diss track about him. Vin’s Sins or something? The guy’s name was Vincent, so I guess it was a play on words-”
“Ladies, please,” a manager has clearly arrived, unhappy that they're gossiping about one of the guests. I’m frozen there, hand half-lifted toward the sequin t-shirt.
Vincent. As in… Vincent-Vincent. The information overloads my brain, short-circuiting it. And a brother? Kai had a brother who’d had a drug problem? Which one of them had overdosed?
The girls sigh as the manager shoos them off to go fold jeans, and I silently curse as my information fountain turns off. I’ll have to do some snooping on the internet.
The manager comes around the rack of coats and spots me there, with a weird expression on my face.
“Can I help you,” she asks me, gesturing towards the sequined shirt.
I shake my head.
“No thank you,” I say, and continue back to the changing rooms.
There's an assistant waiting for me. She takes my bag.
“I’ll hang on to this,” she says.
I pause for a moment.
“Oh, okay,” I say, uncertain. She smiles.
“There's a locker right here, don’t worry.”
She grabs my bag and puts it into a drawer, locking it up and passing me a key on a bracelet.
“There you go, safe and sound,” she says, “let me know if you need any other sizes or styles. I'm happy to help you with your selection today.”
She blinks at me rapidly and I duck behind the curtain, looking at the dresses that Kai had picked out for me.
There's black, lace, and red silk. The colors shimmer in the bright lights of my change room. I glance at the girl in the mirror, her pupils blown out. Something about how they’ve done the mirrors in here makes me look like a model even if I’m not dressed like one.
I run my fingers over the red silk.
And it's the softest fabric I've ever felt. Too soft, almost, and delicate. My fingers are rough and they catch on the nap.
So black lace it is. Maybe.
I slip into it, leaving my jeans on the floor in a puddle. It slithers over my curves, swirly hem kissing at my knees.
I gulp as I look at myself in the mirror again. It looks… beautiful, even though I’m still me with hair thrown back in a ponytail, and in my socks. I look like a child playing dress up.
I feel utterly outclassed. Everett would laugh at me if he could see me.
A throat clearing makes me nearly jump out of my skin.
“Excuse me, but I brought you some shoes?” A girl says.
I poke my head out.
Kai is nowhere to be seen. But right in front of me is a helpful looking shopgirl with a pair of high-heels in her hands.
“It’ll make the dress look better,” she comments. “Better than flats anyway.” My face is blushing and I take them with a quiet thank-you, and duck back into my change room.
There's something magical about putting on a pair of high heels and a pretty dress after having had the most luxurious bubble bath of your life in the most expensive condo you've ever set foot in.
I feel a bit like a modern day princess, if I didn’t have the looming problems of Everett, Kai, and Vincent shadowing over me. With a sigh I tug my hair out of it’s ponytail and run my fingers through it, smoothing away any snarls.
“So how's it working out for you?” Kai asks on the other side of the curtain, making me jump.
I glance at myself in the mirror, and I stop short.
I look like somebody else entirely.
The girl in the mirror isn't a coffee barista anymore, and she's not even someone who has a master's degree that will probably never get used because the student was too insecure to chase her dreams so much so that she's even forgotten what her dreams are in the first place.
No, I look… I swallow hard.
The black lace hugs my curves.
And I look sexy. Dangerous even, my hair swinging and shiny below my chin.
“Okay I think,” I say.
“Can I look? Kai’s pulling back the curtain before I can tell him to stop and he steps inside.
I stare up at him, wondering what kind of grief is hiding behind his eyes. Did he really OD? Did his brother? For a moment I want to ask him about his brother, if it’s really true, and tell him I’m sorry if it is.
Then he decides to ruin it by speaking. He takes one look at me and lets out a little whistle.
“Holy,” he says. “I think y
ou shouldn't go to dinner with Everett.”
“Uh, what, why?” I ask, standing there feeling uncomfortable. He’s so close, and he’s looking at me like he wants to pull me into him…
He gives me a serious look.
“Because there's no way that he's ever gonna let me get near you again if you show up looking like this,” he says, sounding amused. “And then I’ll have to throw him off his balcony.”
I stare at him for a long moment, not sure how to answer that.
Everett hates me. He only wants to use me for my tiebreaker vote.
“You shouldn’t talk about killing people like it’s no big deal,” I mumble, lacking anything else smart to say.
I'm not even sure that Kai’s being nice to me because he's a nice guy or if he's just trying to get into my pants or if he's just trying to get my help with their company. I don’t even think he really cares about the company.
I honestly don't know.
He shakes his head.
“Call him and cancel,” he says. It's a demand. His words are so strong and expectant, like he knows I’ll obey… our eyes meet and hold. And then I’m back in the green room, his body pressing into mine. The heat of his hard form against me.
He smirks, standing there. It’s a look that irritates me, getting under my skin.
“I’m going to get dressed now,” I say and I press my hand on his chest, giving him a gentle shove. “Give me some privacy, please.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Oh?” A smug look appears on his face. “It's not like I haven't seen it all,” he teases. I inhale shakily and glare at him.
“You haven’t,” I point out. He grins, all boyish naughtiness, a heated smolder in his eyes that promises to do me in if he stays in my orbit much longer.
“Whatever you need, princess,” he says, and he ducks out of the change room, laughing under his breath.
I grumble to myself and yank the dress off a little rougher than I should, kicking away the very expensive high heeled shoes.
Who does he think he is? Telling me what I can do and who I can see.
He doesn't have any right. A few minutes… making time with me at the backstage of a private event doesn't mean I owe him anything. In fact, he owes me. I inhale, feeling the strength flow into me with the oxygen. I’m about ready to tell him exactly how, and how frequently he can go fuck himself.
I emerge from the changing room like a boiling thundercloud and he takes one look at my face before smiling at the girl at the cash.
“Ring up that pretty necklace,” he says casually, “and the dress and the shoes.”
He glances over at me again and looks like he’s thinking.
“Maybe a silk pashmina too? She's gonna need a shawl to just in case it's cold.” He says it like everything is decided for me. That burns, that he thinks he can just… order my life around and arrange things to suit him. He bites his lower lip again, must be a signature move of his, and it’s… hot. Stupidly hot. “Where I’m taking her tonight, I don’t want her to feel like she snuggles up to me for warmth.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I’m not going out with you tonight,” I say, snippish, as I brush past him. The shop-girl’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “And this is Los Angeles,” I toss over my shoulder. “It's never cold.”
With that I stomp out of the shop and lift my hand. If it works for him, it can work for me. And like magic, unbelievably, the town car pulls up and I sigh in relief.
“Hey, wait,” Kai calls after me, and I growl under my breath as he catches up to me, several bags in hand. I glance at them and then him. “What’s with the look?” He asks, but I ignore him, getting into the car and crouching over my end of the bench seat.
He gets the hint and says nothing, quiet on the way back, and it isn’t until we’re getting into the elevator that he breaks his silence.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I’m not gonna wait to get you back into your apartment to do something about it.”
Each word he says drops like stone into water, and I inhale.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply. I honestly don’t. He’s looking at me like he wants to devour me, and I swallow hard, taking a step back. I bump against the wall of the elevator.
“See what I mean,” he murmurs, standing still, not making a move for me. He doesn’t need to. He’s reaching for me with his slick words, smooth and heated. “You give me that look like you want to murder me or fuck my spine out. I’m not sure which is the real Olivia.”
I quickly glance in the mirrored wall of the elevator, trying to catch out some hint of what he’s saying. Except all I see is my face. Standard Resting Bitch Face. It’s served me well up until now.
Cause apparently it reads as Resting Lust Face to him.
The doors open, and with the rush of fresh air, I escape, the rustle of bags following me as he keeps pace.
“Liv, wait,” he says, in an affectionate tone he has no right to use, because it just adds to the mounting confusion inside of me. Yes, what happened when we first… met is hanging over me like a 10 ton brick, but also yes, every time I look at him I get these flashes of hot, sweltery feelings and flash backs to how good he felt.
I have to tell him the truth. So he’ll leave me alone. He’s too dangerous to be anywhere near me. I should hate him, and I don’t.
Because he didn’t know. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong. And he made you come twice. When has a guy ever made you come twice?
Am I that hard up that I am willing to forgive what’d happened for a few orgasms? From the way my thighs are tensing up, apparently, the answer is yes.
So I open my mouth to tell him exactly what went down the night of his meet and greet, and my side of it, so he’d know, and he and these stupid confusing tumble of emotions will leave me alone-
But he kisses me. And I melt into it, lost and alone and dizzy in this situation I’ve stumbled into, I lean into him, reaching up to wrap my fingers around his neck and dig my nails in.
I want to hurt him like he unknowingly hurt me. He hisses against my mouth but his hips grind against mine, and he’s pressing me back up against the wall in the hall right next to my door, already his body moving like he wants to fuck, and fuck hard.
“All I think about is getting inside you,” he breathes. The bags got dropped at some point, purchases spilling out of them, black lace everywhere, but it’s fine, especially when his liquid eyes hold me tight. I can’t run, and I don’t want to fight.
I want him.
It’s fucked up.
But I want him.
“Shut up,” I reply, fiercely. The slick desire to claw at his chest, and rip his shirt open and scratch him right down to the bone, shocks me, and I have to breathe for a second. But he doesn’t give me the time, just captures my mouth again, tongue between my teeth before I can stop him, and he’s punishing me with his kisses. His hands run down my hips, and I’m stuck, between a hard place and his hard cock, again, like before.
I should be having horrifying flashbacks. Instead I’m getting soaked, my pussy wet against my panties. The fabric clings to me, and when he abandons kissing me for attaching his mouth to the side of my neck, biting down until he gets to my collarbone, I helplessly moan and try to pull him closer.
“Classy,” Everett’s cultured voice breaks over us like a cold slap, and my hand is up between me and Kai, shoving him away in a split second. Without blinking, he steps back, before glaring down the hallway at Everett.
Everett, who’s inspecting his nails like his manicurist left a snag and he’s pissy about it, doesn’t bother to respond with his own scowl.
“Get out,” he says, “I need to talk to our new charity case.”
My lips are wet and dry at the same time, rough from being kissed and bitten at. Kai stiffens at the order from Everett.
“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he says, reaching down to grab my bags from the floor, handing them to me. And
then, shooting me an inscrutable look, he leaves, just like that, abandoning me to the wolf.
Everett smirks as he steps closer.
“Kai knows who pulls the strings,” he says smoothly. “You think he’ll be your protector in this tower, but I can promise you one thing, Princess, he’s no knight in shining armor.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen him without a suit jacket on. He’s wearing a t-shirt, of all things, which makes him look softer, more approachable.
Too bad he’s such a high grade asshole that the minute he opens his mouth he chases all illusions of him possibly being nice out the window. The 6th story window, with a straight drop down onto a pavement below. The shock of landing will either kill you or shatter every bone in your body and make you wish you were dead.
“You need to make a decision, Olivia,” he says, when it becomes obvious I’m not about to say anything.
I’m slowly realizing that silence is weapon in these halls, one that I’m ready to wield. So I stare at him. Let him be unnerved for once. He is such an ass he deserves it.
He waits, almost like he’s expecting me to say something.
And I don’t. It’s painful, the stretch of time between us, that infernal quiet, the hum of air running through the HVAC above us. And my heartbeat, so loud it echoes in my ears, and I wonder if he can hear it.
“What is it you want? More money?” His voice is so quiet as he speaks, that I have to strain to hear it. “Two million. Final offer. Then you can waste your life away in that ridiculous little bed sit of yours with that flea-bag cat.” He smiles. “You won’t even need to see another John on a date ever again.”
He’s stepped too far, I see a flash of red for a moment, and then I exhale.
“No, I wouldn’t, but I’m not going anywhere. I can’t be bought.” I lift my chin. “Unlike you, who’s obviously selling himself to have this company, I’m not a whore.”
He goes still, face pale and eyes narrowing, and I’ve made the same mistake he has. I’ve pushed too far.
He draws himself up to his full height, like a cobra, ready to strike, and then… he smiles.
Sweetly.
Poison at the edges.